


remember that you have to die.

by ansutazu



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Paper stars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9272735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ansutazu/pseuds/ansutazu
Summary: and so plays this predictable story; keep with you a memento mori. // a fic following eichi and keito's friendship through the years, and lucky stars. one-shot.





	

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday (again) eichi! i love you. i'm sorry you died. :)
> 
> a majority of this was written today, the first half having been written yesterday. i didn't check it (i probably should), so feel free to point out any mistakes in my writing!

 “Keito, let’s fold some paper stars!”

The boy glances at him with a penetrating glare, and Eichi holds his hands up in defense, laughing all too calmly for the green-haired _shinigami_ , an oddity to compare with the gods. Schoolwork was left abandoned due to the blonde’s insistence of a break, and since the manor made it so that the young heir would get his way, a servant had brought over a tray of Keito’s favorite tea (it was different from his own tastes, but since Keito was a beloved guest in the Tenshouin household, he was more than willing to comply — that, and Eichi’s favorite tea was just all too bitter for anyone else, it seems).

Small children, basking under the sun’s warmth — one could forget that they were bound by the fate of death, the fate of eternal sleep that haunted the blonde with uncertainty and haste. How morbid was the fact that the day before, they drafted Eichi’s funeral arrangement per his ideals? That mere elementary children were thinking that far into the future, to a future where the young heir would no longer breathe? 

And yet the very next day, they can become as excitable as this when it comes to creating such simple crafts. To be truly carefree, to see the world for what it wasn’t…what a relic of the past, a benighted euphoria that only children could attain — for as humans grow, it seems that there is only grief and struggle, an unending strife with the hindrances of life.

“Why would we make them?” Keito muses with a scowl on his face, for what purpose would it be worthwhile of Eichi to waste his breath on? “We have homework to be working on — why don’t we get back to that?”

“It’s all simple math,” Eichi complains, and he starts folding a piece of paper in his hands (for a moment, Keito panics at the prospect of a paper cut — but then he remembers that his friend has had it worse) with delicacy only the wealthy and poised could attain. “Besides, we practically have all day. Let’s get it all done!” 

“ _You_ have all day,” Keito points out, although he does not voice the reason why despite its irony (your family is concerned after your most recent attack, and they don’t want to force you into any extraneous activities for a while; it must be boring for you, huh?). “I have work to do back at the shrine.”  

“Hmm…” Eichi taps the bottom of his chin, and his face contorts to that of when he is in deep thought, calculating his options. It seemed to be a skill of his, this observation — to be as keen and as attentive to his surroundings as possible, and to be able to react to them based upon ‘better judgement’. He possessed that kind of skill, this Tenshouin kid. “Then how about we get a bit done today? We can just add on at a later time.”

‘A later time’ was finite — for time was but an illusion, an unnecessary restraint on Eichi, who was told time and time again that he had little time to walk on this earth. When exactly would he reach his expiration date? When would he finally pass into the other world that his family pressed upon him, the world Keito believed in? 

When would they finally put that funeral plan to use?

To put off such a task…it left an unsatisfied taste in his mouth, but even he can’t press Keito over such trivial things. He decided to trust in the gods’ wills, that despite all odds, he would live longer than what his doctors had told him — only for them to just add a few more months after again, but that was not the point.

For once, he begs to the gods —

_Please let me live another day._

“Fine, but…” Keito looks at Eichi, curiosity brimming in his eyes now. His one and only friend was a curious one, it seemed. Unaware of customs, of rumors, of moral superstitions, he asks, “You said ‘a bit done today’…how many are we making in the end, exactly?”

Eichi, having heard the myth of those ‘lucky stars’ through books and whispers, smiles rather cheekily with his friend.

“We’re going to fill a whole jar!”

* * *

Keito walks into the hospital room, finding Eichi resting on the bed with papers strewn all over. He smiles at Keito — his first reaction is always this, it seems, but Keito knows (he’s an expert by now) that it is unlike the feigned ones he often flashes to those he is not attached to.

“I hope that’s student council work,” he says, although he knows all-too well that a majority of the paperwork was on his desk, waiting to be completed. It was only because _this_ asshole had been hospitalized _yet again_ did he have to rush over to the hospital as soon as he finished half the stack of student council work. 

“No, no…” Eichi’s laugh is a simple melody, a pleasant sound to anyone who hears it. To Keito, he’s just tired of it. “Tsumugi…he came to visit earlier today, and he reminded me of something.”

“Tsumugi — one of your unit’s members, right? What was he doing?”

“Checking up on me and reassuring that ‘ _fine_ ’ was doing its work.” He pauses, tilting his head to the side as his eyes gloss over with temporary seriousness. “As it should be. I’m a bit concerned as to my performing in the upcoming live, but — ” 

“For fuck’s sake, Eichi.” Keito rolls his eyes, the expletive rolling off his tongue to Eichi’s surprise. “For once, can’t you follow what the doctors say and _rest_? Your unit is filled with strong people — they can survive without you for a while. If you push too hard, you’re seriously going to mess yourself up.”  

“I know, I know.” He shakes his head, a small smile once again on his face. Ah, Keito’s daily lectures. He holds up a thin piece of paper, and beckons Keito over. “Anyway, you didn’t ask me what I was doing! Remember those paper stars we folded as a kid?” 

“Yeah,” Keito replies, doing just as Eichi commands and taking the seat next to his bed. “What about them?”

“Tsumugi was talking about — oh, handicrafts and stuff, and…” He cups a paper star in his palm, and his grin grows wider. “Ta-da! I remembered how to fold them.”

“So you’re just going to fold them needlessly? Eichi, if you have that much time, use it to _rest_ so you heal faster.”

“Hmm…ah, that’s right, you don’t know.” Eichi’s smile disappears, and he is left with a smug look on his face, although one would see it as him being slightly confused.

“Don’t know what?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” He picks up a sliver of paper, and for the third time, his smile appears. How easy it was for Eichi’s expressions to switch in front of Keito — for he was comfortable around his childhood friend, and each one was genuine. “Come on, let’s fold some for old time’s sake!”

* * *

He walks in a sullen manner, head tucked snuggly into the scarf that wraps itself around his neck (he wonders if this was how he suffered his fate, gasping desperately for air; he feels sorry for him, almost).

His grave is the newest, the headstone having withstood none of the turmoils his ancestors’ markers had taken on. His is in pristine, beautiful condition — how fitting was it that Yumenosaki’s ‘beloved’ emperor had a grave that boasted of his status!

Winter hangs around in the air, and as if it knew of Keito’s holy deeds, her cold hands suspend the snow’s hopeful dances as he approaches the grave. It stills when stands a few inches directly from it, and he smiles bitterly — did Eichi pry the gods’ powers from their grasps and declare it as his? 

If so, he was looking down on a pitiful, predictable sight.

_Tenshouin Eichi._

He looks down at what offerings he brought, and he sighs. Today would have been a day of celebration, a day of shock as Eichi learns that he has yet again defied the odds and lives to see his birthday once more. 

“I’m a year older, but some things never change,” he would say. 

(And Keito wished that it stayed that way.)

He figures that his parents were huddling around the family altar for the boy’s birthday — his picture is the newest addition, and they were probably hard-pressed for time in their business, for now that their only heir had left this earth, they were to start initiating their back-up plan.

Keito wonders — did his enemies come to visit his grave, drag his name through the mud, scornfully say “serves you right”? Wataru of the Five Oddballs, despite being made an enemy by his longing admirer, had made the trip, be it out of obligation to his unit or what affinity he had to the fallen emperor. Speaking of _fine_ …it truly was the end for their leader; surely Tori, being the selfish boy that he was, dragged the entire unit to his grave on this particular day, to pay their respects to someone that gave them the wings to soar as idols. The small boy, having to experience the tragedy of death for the first time — Keito inconsiderately decided that he’d take on more work than usual, for such a thing to happen might shake up the young boy’s being for a bit. Did that first-year in _Knights_ — “Tsukasa Suou, that fool is not a good example,” he once said — visit as well, bidding the boy that whispered Keito’s alias goodbye? The Tea Club — Hajime would not have forgotten, and Ritsu would have begrudgingly tagged along, only to make the first-year content. That tea cup that Eichi used constantly during his time in the club — it _must_ have been Hajime, who would have set it gently on the rock with tears pooling in his eyes.

Yumenosaki, friends and foes alike, felt that the school was empty without him.

Customs were always the first to take hold of him, and despite the frigid winds that blew past him, he lights the incense and glues his hands together for a prayer.

_You stupid asshole — I told you to take care of yourself, didn’t I? I told you not to push yourself to much, to keep your health in consideration…look at what you’ve done. Now that mansion is not worth going to anymore. The class is quiet. Your unit hasn’t done anything in weeks. God — it’s not the same without you, but I hope that wherever the hell you are, you’re in good shape._  

“It’s not much in terms of a present — compared to the ones you used to get, that is.” Keito shifts the items in his arms, and he sets a bouquet of white lilies down. Eichi had always mused his liking towards them, the soft, creamy color juxtaposed with the temple’s red. He is more than certain that the boy had seen these flowers at the family altar, at funerals, at the graves beside him — the symbol of mourning had become his favorite, and he stuck with it. 

There was another thing, but first Keito had to wipe his glasses of the snow that whipped against it. His gloved hands set down a jar, filled to the brim with paper stars.

He had finally figured out what they were for — good luck, happiness, an opportunity for the recipient to wish for something. It took him rummaging through the remains of Eichi’s belongings to finally find it — a letter addressed to him, hidden in the depths of his papers beside the half-filled jar of paper stars.

The letter is not worth mentioning — he became a sap, that Eichi. He goes on to ramble about how Keito deserved better, how he hoped that Keito would someday return to drawing, how Keito was this, how Keito was that, how Keito was the best friend he could have ever hoped for. Included in that letter was what Eichi had written down in a couple of those paper stars in hopes that it would  ‘enhance’  their power even more.

All this time, that selfish brat wished for Keito’s well-being.

And all this time, Keito had done the same, only the subject of good health was Eichi. 

“I finished it for you,” he mutters, and he looks at the characters on the grave once more. He had an inkling of this happening — that Eichi was not going to make it, that he would have to trudge through life alone.

But whatever memories were ‘born back ceaselessly to the past’, as Eichi would have put it…he had no intention of forgetting. Keito, too, was a selfish, selfish boy.

There is no need to voice his thoughts — he just hopes that Eichi, and the gods, hears his sentiment, the same sentiment that ended Eichi’s letter.

_I hope you’re happy._  

 


End file.
